


Close Shave

by canadino



Category: Gintama
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2016-09-25
Packaged: 2018-08-17 04:40:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8130763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canadino/pseuds/canadino
Summary: Takasugi gets a haircut.





	

“Hey, Takasugi, hey,” Sakamoto said, pawing at Takasugi’s shoulder to make sure he got his attention. It wasn’t even full palm contact, Sakamoto’s hand bouncing off like holding it for too long would burn him, and it was annoying. Takasugi was already angry because they’d created patrol shifts to reduce the chances of being spotted, and Sakamoto was a very flashy guy. He and Gintoki and Sakamoto made three, and three people marching around a specific area was suspicious. Gintoki didn’t say anything of course, because he didn’t give a fig about rules. “Hey, Takasugi,” Sakamoto said, not taking Takasugi’s silence as a hint. “Your hair’s getting long, you know.” He grabbed a fistful of the hair that had grown down the back of Takasugi’s neck with no decorum. “You should get it cut soon!”

“I haven’t had the time,” Takasugi ground out between gritted teeth. Sakamoto was a hindrance to the patrol anyway. He himself could fight his way through an Amanto ambush, as could Gintoki if he was being fair, but Sakamoto fumbled his sword more often than not during training and he distracted Gintoki with his loud laughing. It was annoying. “And what’s wrong with it? There’s nothing wrong with it.” 

“I mean,” Sakamoto said, in all seriousness, “it’s not a very flattering look on you, no offense.” Gintoki cackled. “Gin and I can get away with letting our hair grow long because it’s got volume and texture. But you wouldn’t look good with curly hair either. Your face isn’t very versatile for many hairstyles.” Gintoki’s laughter was over the top and totally just for egging Sakamoto on, and it was working. Takasugi hated him for it. 

“What’s wrong with long hair?” Takasugi huffed. He had no real opinion on the matter, because hair was hair to him, but if he was going to be antagonized, this was a hill he was willing to die on. “Katsura has longer hair than I do and I don’t see you telling him he looks bad.” 

“Oh, no,” Gintoki said, his voice taking on the grave sincerity that Sakamoto had had for the past unholy few minutes. “Our battalions can only have one long-haired pretty boy.” 

Takasugi surged on ahead, one hand on his sword. “If you won’t take patrol seriously, I’m not going to risk my neck being around you noisy idiots. I don’t need to listen to your pointless chatter.” When their patrol was over, he took a dagger and hacked at the back of his head. Katsura came up behind him as he was splashing water on his face and wordlessly cleaned up the uneven ends. He handed the dagger back to Takasugi with a wry smile on his face, amused no doubt about Takasugi’s sudden and inexplicable hatred for the hair falling along his neck. His own hair was tied up neatly behind him. Takasugi wondered what would happen if he took the dagger and went to town with those long locks. 

At dinner, Gintoki brought a hand up to the back of Takasugi’s neck and pulled at the close-cut hairs there. “Cute,” he said, grinning so smarmily he was practically sneering, and Takasugi knew he had made a mistake cutting his hair so quickly. Now Gintoki knew he had gotten to him. He batted Gintoki’s hand away and stormed off into the woods to gather more firewood, the shadows from the fire in the clearing flickering around him. 

He was only beginning to feel a little less frustrated when Gintoki appeared, as expected of whenever he was not wanted. “What’s gotten you so upset all of a sudden?” he asked, not bothering to look for any kindling himself. He was a waste of space, Takasugi thought ruefully. “You’ve been testy all afternoon.”

“You’re imagining it,” Takasugi muttered. 

“I don’t think I am. What happened? You’re quick to anger, but you’re not irrational.” 

“Why don’t you go back with the others if you won’t help me?”

“Is it because Sakamoto came along on patrol? I didn’t ask him to; maybe I should have told him not to, but it’s not like he’s going to do anything to intentionally endanger us. If you feel so strongly about it, you can just talk to him. He can take it.” 

“That’s not,” Takasugi ground out, “the point at all.” It was, a little bit, but that was irrelevant. There needed to be respect for the theory behind it all. Two people was the perfect number for those types of things. Three just ruined it. 

“Then what?” His silences and attempts to not make things worse were just not being picked up at all - no one ought to blame him, then, when he acted out. “Is it what we said about your hair? We were just joking. Sakamoto definitely. No one’s had time to groom themselves properly even if we wanted to. It’s not like what you look like makes any difference to the rest of us or anything.” 

“I said it’s not about that at all. If you want to talk about hair so much, why don’t you go talk to Sakamoto? Why don’t you go look at yourself in a mirror? Better yet, why don’t you just run off and commiserate with the resident long-haired pretty boy? I’m sure Katsura has some tips on how he’s managed his hair’s upkeep and you definitely need them, you bushy-haired freak.”

Gintoki stopped abruptly. “Hey, now,” he said after a beat. “I never said the long-haired pretty boy type was my type.”

Takasugi stopped too and looked at him. He scowled. “I don’t know what words you’re trying to put in my mouth, but I didn’t say anything about what your type is and I don’t care what it is either. It’s a miracle anyone can keep up a conversation with you if you keep derailing like that, and…”

“My type is the short-haired type. Or if the hair is tied up, I guess, but tightly. Hair’s like a curtain, you know. If you’re worth your mettle you shouldn’t need anything to frame your face.” 

Takasugi threw all the wood he had collected so far onto the ground. He said, “Take your type and shove it.” He said it in his mind, which was good enough, because he really said nothing and grabbed Gintoki and kissed him within an inch of his life. Gintoki said nothing either and put his hands on Takasugi’s shoulders and kissed him back within an inch of his life. It occurred to Takasugi that they were just snogging in the middle of the woods while their peers were sitting around contemplating their latest strategies and the futility of the human condition. He thought about it and Gintoki moved his hands up from his shoulders to cup his face gently and his traitorous stomach flipped. 

“Anyway, I don’t care about your type,” Takasugi said afterwards. 

“Or that you fit it?”

“I don’t care if I do or not, it’s irrelevant to me.” Gintoki watched him as he collected all the firewood back up again and was, as usual, no help. 

“So when is our next patrol together?” Takasugi did not answer, because he did not know - not exactly, because it was sometime in two days, approximately between lunch and dinner, most likely the second patrol after lunch. But he wasn’t that sure. “I’ll ask Katsura if he can chat with Sakamoto about buying things or something during that time. Just so he won’t want to tag along after my awesome self.” He scratched his nose as Takasugi straightened up. “You really do look better with shorter hair, you know.” He had nothing else to say, so he turned and headed back to camp. Takasugi did not acknowledge the compliment with his thanks, but he also did not throw the wood at Gintoki and make him carry it, so it was the same thing, really. It had been duly noted. The back of Takasugi’s neck prickled, and it felt more open and vulnerable, but - it wasn’t too bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
